The Alternate ending
by Drake Silver
Summary: I wrote this for a school assignment. Its a alternate ending and if someone already did this, just PM me and I will take the story off. One-shot.


_**The alternate ending for **_If I Stay.

* * *

most of what is here, is copy/pasted from Young_Adult/If_I_Stay-1/index_ Whats Italicized is what I changed from the original text.

It's morning. And inside the hospital, there's a different kind of dawn, a rustling of covers, a clearing of the eyes. In some ways, the hospital never goes to sleep. The lights stay on and the nurses stay awake, but even though it's still dark outside, you can tell that things are waking up. The doctors are back, yanking on my eyelids, shining their lights at me, frowning as they scribble notes in my chart as though I've let them down.

I don't care anymore. I'm tired of this all, and it will be over soon. The social worker is back on duty again, too. It looks like the night's sleep had little impact on her. Her eyes are still heavy, her hair a kinky mess. She reads my chart and listens to updates from the nurses on my bumpy night, which seems to make her even more tired. The nurse with the blue-black skin is also back. She greeted me by telling me how glad she was to see me this morning, how she'd been thinking about me last night, hoping I'd be here. Then she noticed the bloodstain on my blanket and tsked tsked before hustling off to get me a new one.

After Kim left, there haven't been any more visitors. I guess Willow has run out of people to lobby me with. I wonder if this deciding business is something that all the nurses are aware of. Nurse Ramirez sure knew about it. And I think the nurse with me now knows it, too, judging by how congratulatory she's acting that I made it through the night. And Willow seems like she knows it, too, with the way she's been marching everyone through here. I like these nurses so much. I hope they will not take my decision personally.

I am so tired now that I can barely blink my eyes. It's all just a matter of time, and part of me wonders why I'm delaying the inevitable. But I know why. I'm waiting for Adam to come back. Though it seems like he has been gone for an eternity, it's probably only been an hour. And he asked me to wait, so I will. That's the least I can do for him.

My eyes are closed so I hear him before I see him. I hear the raspy, quick rushes of his lungs. He is panting like he just ran a marathon. Then I smell the sweat on him, a clean musky scent that I'd bottle and wear as perfume if I could. I open my eyes. Adam has closed his. But the lids are puffy and pink, so I know what he's been doing. Is that why he went away? To cry without my seeing?

He doesn't so much sit in the chair as fall into it, like clothes heaped onto the floor at the end of a long day. He covers his face with his hands and takes deep breaths to steady himself. After a minute, he drops his hands into his lap. "Just listen," he says with a voice that sounds like shrapnel.

I open my eyes wide now. I sit up as much as I can. And I listen.

"Stay." With that one word, Adam's voice catches, but he swallows the emotion and pushes forward. "There's no word for what happened to you. There's no good side of it. But there is something to live for. And I'm not talking about me. It's just . . . I don't know. Maybe I'm talking shit. I know I'm in shock. I know I haven't digested what happened to your parents, to Teddy . . . " When he says Teddy, his voice cracks and an avalanche of tears tumbles down his face. And I think: I love you.

I hear him take gulpfuls of air to steady himself. And then he continues: "All I can think about is how f**ked up it would be for your life to end here, now. I mean, I know that your life is f**ked up no matter what now, forever. And I'm not dumb enough to think that I can undo that, that anyone can. But I can't wrap my mind around the notion of you not getting old, having kids, going to Juilliard, getting to play that cello in front of a huge audience, so that they can get the chills the way I do every time I see you pick up your bow, every time I see you smile at me.

"If you stay, I'll do whatever you want. I'll quit the band, go with you to New York. But if you need me to go away, I'll do that, too. I was talking to Liz and she said maybe coming back to your old life would just be too painful, that maybe it'd be easier for you to erase us. And that would suck, but I'd do it. I can lose you like that if I don't lose you today. I'll let you go. If you stay."

Then it is Adam who lets go. His sobs burst like fists pounding against tender flesh.

I close my eyes. I cover my ears. I cannot watch this. I cannot hear this.

But then, it is no longer Adam that I hear. It's that sound, the low moan that in an instant takes flight and turns into something sweet. It's the cello. Adam has placed headphones over my lifeless ears and is laying an iPod down on my chest. He's apologizing, saying that he knows this isn't my favorite but it was the best he could do. He turns up the volume so I can hear the music floating across the morning air. Then he takes my hand.

It is Yo-Yo Ma. Playing Andante con poco e moto rubato. The low piano plays almost as if in warning. In comes the cello, like a heart bleeding. And it's like something inside of me explodes.

I am sitting around the breakfast table with my family, drinking hot coffee, laughing at Teddy's chocolate-chip mustache. The snow is blowing outside.

_Adam is at a cemetery. Four graves under a tall tree on a hill overlooking a river._

_Adam is laying on a blanket in-front of one of the grave's. I can almost make out what it says._

_Adam's looking at a tomb stone. It says: Here lays the body of Mia Hall. Who found a love in Music._

_Adam is in a concert hall. His band Shooting star behind him, the crowd cheering, while he has tears streaming his face._

_He looks at Kim, as she cries by my grave._

_He is in my room, sitting with my cello, the one Mom and Dad gave me after my first recital. His fingers caress the wood and the pegs, which time and touch have worn smooth. My bow is poised over the strings now. He looks at it, a stand and music in-front of him._

_I am floating, watching my body be held by Adam's hand._

Yo-Yo Ma continues to play, and it's like the piano and cello are being poured into my body, the same way that the IV and blood transfusions are. But it all slows. My vision becomes fuzzy, and my hearing becomes faint.

There is a blinding flash, a pain that rips through me for one searing instant, a silent scream from my broken body. For the first time, I can sense how fully agonizing staying will be.

_I float up. My vision becoming more and more dark, my hearing fading more and more._

Adam is crying and somewhere inside of me I am crying, too, because I'm _leaving_ at last. I'm _leaving_ not just the physical pain, but all that I have lost, and it is profound and catastrophic and will leave a crater in me that nothing will ever fill. But I'm also_ leaving_ all that I have in my life, which includes what I have lost, as well as the great unknown of what life might still bring me. I don't know why I am _going_._ I want him, Adam, Kim, Willow, and everyone to be happy for me. But I don't know how. _

_The last thing I hear, before everything is dark, is the heart monitor, going flatline._

* * *

**_Adams P.O.V_**

_I am clutching Mia's hand, hoping to god she will wake, look at me and say: "Its all right." But at the last moment, the last part of the song, there's a flatline. My head shoots up, looking. The doctors and nurses come in, bring equipment down, and trying to wake her._

_"MIA!" I scream as doctors try to get me out._

_"No! I need her!" They call security, and I'm taken away._

* * *

**_Two weeks later._**

_Its the funeral. Mia has been… gone. For about two weeks. Its been agonizingly painful. My bandmates have been trying to cheer me up, but its no use. She's gone. My MIA. Is gone. And as I look at her body, the woman I learned to love even though we started out so different, I fell for. We both fell._

* * *

**_Three months latter._**

_I go to her grave every day. To talk with her. She can't hear me, but it feels good to talk. It's a monday, and I don't have anything else to do so I'm going lay here for the rest of the day. _

_"Hello." I turned, and saw her. She looked almost exactly like Mia, but her eyes were a light green, and she was a little shorter._

_"I just moved in next door," She pointed to the old house by the cemetery. "And saw you here… Do you play?" She pointed at the cello._

_"No. But I want to learn. I play guitar, so I thought it would be about the same, but I was wrong."_

_She smiled, a warm smile, just like Mia._

_"I know. I can teach you." I held her hand out, and she took it, helping me up._

_"Whats your name?" _

_"I'm Maria. You?"_

_"I'm Adam."_

_"Well Adam. I think we'll be great friends."_

* * *

Okay! I spent three hours on this for a school assignment but I was asked if I could put this up on some website so people could read it, so that lead to this.

The end.


End file.
